


The Twilight Zone

by daasgrrl



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-07
Updated: 2009-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daasgrrl/pseuds/daasgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Badfic with a twist of lime. No redeeming value whatsoever *g*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twilight Zone

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** Thanks to [](http://evila-elf.livejournal.com/profile)[**evila_elf**](http://evila-elf.livejournal.com/) for the read-through. ****
> 
> Product of a recent encounter with _Twilight_  combined with [](http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/profile)[**karaokegal**](http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/)'s evil nature. I realize some people love those books - I'm not judging, 'kay? Spoilers, though, in case that matters. Thanks to my flist for being there ♥

**The Twilight Zone**

  
Arrived safely last night in the New Jersey town of my birth, which is overcast, damp and rainy; in short, as completely Forked as I remember it. I shall miss Montreal. I wore my blouse of white eyelet lace for the occasion. My dad surprised me by giving me a truck. It is big and red with a throbbing engine. It must mean he loves me.  
  
***

First day at my new school. It is tiny, only three hundred and fifty-seven people. The lady in the front office was very patient with me when I insisted she double-check the enrollment lists so I could record the exact number. With my arrival, that makes three hundred and fifty-eight. I think. I have never been very good at math, despite my other talents.

Even though I secretly hate people, a lot of them seemed to want to talk to me. I guess not much happens around here. First I met Eric, who showed me around. He seems to think he’s very smart but didn't laugh at my albino joke. Clearly, he has no sense of humor. Then there was a girl whose name I find it difficult to remember, since she was, after all, female. Allison, that was it. She has long brown hair. And then there was Robert, who is blond and has a funny accent. He seemed to like me too, although I may have misunderstood.

But most importantly, I saw _him_. Or rather at first I saw all of them, sitting together in the cafeteria, conspicuously not eating anything, which made me wonder why they bothered going there in the first place. They were all strangely pale and thin - perhaps they are anorexic and need to keep up appearances. Allison says they live together as a family, even though they are clearly not related by  _blood_. I wonder if their mom is a celebrity of some kind. There were three boys - Christopher, Lawrence and Gregory - and two girls - Lisa and Remy - and they were all devastatingly beautiful in a way I am unable to describe. Literally, unable. They were obviously outsiders too, _just like me_! The handsomest of the boys, Gregory, _looked_ at me, and he almost smiled. But then he didn’t look at me again.  
  
Then after lunch we had biology, and I had to sit next to him, and this time he glared at me, and acted as though I smelled bad. I’m sure I don’t; my long, dark hair smells like strawberries, as it always does. Because of the shampoo I use, not any other reason. I already understood everything the teacher was saying, so instead I spent the whole class concentrating on how mean Gregory was being to me. Later, I caught him actually trying to change his class times. How can someone so incredibly gorgeous be so _mean_? It’s just not fair.

***

Eric, Robert and Allison all hang out with me now. Allison seems very pleased about that. I think she likes Robert, even though he likes me better. I found out that Gregory’s dad is a brilliant surgeon. I wonder if Gregory wants to be a doctor too? But I can’t ask him because since that first day he hasn’t been at school, and it's been a whole week now. I would think he’s avoiding me except that would be very self-centered of me, so obviously that's impossible. All I can think about is how insanely good-looking he is. Decided to re-read _Wuthering Heights_ for no very good reason.

***

Gregory was back at school today, and this time he spoke to me! He has beautiful blue eyes that change color with his moods. Today they were as blue as the sky I remember back in Montreal. I told him all about myself and he seemed to find that fascinating. His voice is so low and musical, and he knows all about biology. Did I mention I find him overwhelmingly attractive? I must not let him know that I dream about him every night - and think about him most of the day as well.

***

I was a little concerned when he started stalking me everywhere I went, but it turns out he has only been hiding his true feelings from me all along. Now I am in love with him more than ever, and he says he feels the same way about me. He says that being around him is dangerous, and that I'm like his Vicodin, or something. I wasn't really listening, because I was too busy gazing at his strikingly elegant features. Also, I discovered he plays the piano exquisitely, and watching him and his family having a game of lacrosse during that recent thunderstorm was awesome.  
  
Okay, so he’s a vampire. Nobody’s perfect.

***

We held hands and went out in the sunlight together for the first time today. Oh my god, he _sparkles_.  
  
***

Wilson woke with a start, and instinctively clutched at the book on his chest to keep it from falling. It wasn't there. Slowly, he struggled up from his supine position on the couch, checking the cushions beneath and beside him, fingers sweeping the narrow gap between couch and floor. A disbelieving glance around indicated there was, in fact, no sign of it anywhere in the living room. Which left him to draw only one possible conclusion.

“House!”

It took only seconds for House to emerge from the depths of the kitchen. “You bellowed?”

“Okay, where is it?”

“Where’s what?” House was wearing his most wide-eyed innocent face, an unmistakable tell.

“The book.”

“What book?”

Wilson couldn’t quite bring himself to name it aloud, and he was aware House knew that all too well. “The book I was _reading_.”

“It can’t have been that great if you fell asleep.”

“That’s not the point. I was reading it!”

"And now you're not. Don't worry, it's not like anything _happens_."  
  
"How reassuring," Wilson said, completely unreassured. "What - did - you - do - with - it?”  
  
“I think I might have seen it... tear itself to pieces and hurl itself down the garbage chute. Literary _harakiri_. Nothing I could do.”

“Did you even wrap it properly?" Wilson lost focus for a moment, then recovered. "Never mind. You couldn't wait until I'd _finished_?”

House looked at him pityingly. “Look, it’s better this way. I’ve just rescued you from the insane fantasies of a deluded female. Not for the first time, either, if we’re including all of your wives.”

Wilson ignored the jab. “But of course  _you_ read the entire thing.”

“That’s different. I have to keep up with popular sentiment.”

“And I don’t?”

House came around and sat down beside him. “Nope. Especially when it’s just an excuse to indulge all your stupid ideas about romance.”

“I only started reading it because _you_ bought it!”  
  
“I told you,” House said, “That’s different.”

“Not _that_ different.”

By now Wilson was sputtering in outrage, but House only moved a little closer to him, and then his hand crept over and began stroking Wilson’s thigh in a manner that made him temporarily forget what he had just been complaining about. That was swiftly followed by the press of House’s mouth on his lips, his cheek, then just below his ear, moving slowly downwards, stubble scraping against the underside of his jaw. Despite his lingering sense of irritation, Wilson was momentarily lost in the sensations of House’s touch, his darkening eyes, the irresistible scent of him.

“It’s a stupid book,” House added redundantly. “But watching you get all obsessive over it does make me kind of… hungry.”

Wilson glared at him as best he could under the circumstances. “I'm not obsessed. And what, _now_? You couldn’t wait another couple of hours until after _I’ve_ eaten?”

But as House moved to caress him further in lieu of a reply, Wilson resigned himself to his fate. He leaned back and obediently bared his throat, gasping as the pleasure he was receiving at House's hands intertwined with the familiar twin stabs of pain.

Wilson never had been able to deny House anything - not then, and definitely not now. Still, life was undeniably better this way for both of them, if a great deal more complicated. House had been right, of course; the book had been hopelessly trite, not to mention inaccurate. But that didn't mean Wilson was going to just sit back and let House get away with it completely. In some small recess of his mind that was finely tuned to thoughts of revenge, he was already considering how he could best get his hands on something suitably sticky, together with, perhaps, a large multi-colored bucketful of glitter.


End file.
